


Locked Inside

by airandangels



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/pseuds/airandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a freak telepathic event traps Garak in a life-threatening delusional loop of grief and guilt, Julian needs the help of Lwaxana Troi to rescue him from his own mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Conversation on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3605) by Myself and crowdog66. 



> This story takes place at some point after 'The Muse' and uses the 'multitronic engrammatic interpreter' (which sounds awfully like L. Ron Hubbard invented it) that, canonically, didn't appear until 'Extreme Measures.' Since, pretty obviously, I'm going to depart from canon and make an AU, let's not worry about continuity, shall we?
> 
> I say this, of course, mainly because I DO worry about continuity and need to give myself 'permission' not to.
> 
> The ideas for this story were brainstormed by me and crowdog66 on Tumblr after I reblogged a fuckyeahtng picture of Lwaxana Troi, so major credit goes to crowdog for concepts and inspiration.

Ambassador Troi arrived by shuttlecraft, having developed a notion that transporting was bad for babies' delicate nervous systems and being quite determined to prove that her infant son, Ian, would be far better off if he were not subjected to it. She sailed onto the Promenade like a galleon from ancient Earth, an impression enhanced by the full skirts of her dress and what lactating for several months had done to what might delicately be called her prow. In her wake followed Mr Homn, carrying two large valises, and, like a dinghy bringing up the rear, the new nanny, a young Betazoid woman called Grana, who carried Ian wrapped in a lavishly embroidered purple shawl.

As luck would have it, Constable Odo was on the Promenade speaking sternly to two Bajoran boys who had been playing with a ball, and were now agreeing that they would never, ever throw objects around in a crowded public place again. Lwaxana bore down on him with a fluting cry of ' _O_ do!' and the two boys shot away as if jet propelled.

Odo overcame the momentary impulse to withdraw his head into his neck and turned to meet her. 'Lwaxana.' She seized his arm and beamed at him, reminding him that she was worth the effort it sometimes cost him to be around her.

'Odo, dear, I thought it was about time you saw your son.' She waved Grana over.

'But we're no relation, and after the divorce...'

'Oh, yes, but don't you still feel a quasi-paternal interest?' She took the bundled baby from Grana's arms and displayed him proudly. 'This is Ian. Ian, this is Papa Odo. He's going to love you!'

Odo took a look, politely, and found that Ian was rather an engaging child, with large dark eyes, a rosebud mouth and chunky little arms. He extended a hand like a pink starfish and patted at Odo's nose with a look of intense concentration, and Odo found himself smiling involuntarily.

'You see? He's such a lovable child. We've just been on the Enterprise, visiting his big sister, and Captain Picard was just besotted with him. I had no idea the dear man was so fond of babies. Would you like to hold him? There! Support his head. Why Odo, you're a natural at this.'

Without quite knowing how he got there, Odo found himself holding the baby, which gurgled at him and grabbed onto his chin. He realised he was in some danger of becoming besotted himself.

'And he's so gifted. Watching his little thoughts form is such a joy. He's going to be a very strong telepath - in fact, I need Grana to make sure he doesn't inadvertently do some sort of damage. Babies often don't know their own strength, and when you take them off Betazed, among people who don't necessarily know how to shield their minds, they do sometimes have a little whoopsie. Don't you, precious? And Mama needs to be able to relax sometimes, yes she does!'

Odo looked over at Grana, who smiled back tightly. It was unfortunate that, just at that moment, the boys' ball sailed through the air and hit her right between the eyes. As she toppled backwards like a felled tree, and as Lwaxana turned towards her with a startled cry, nobody's attention was on the baby except Odo's. Their eyes met and he felt a bizarre sensation, as if a large ocean wave had rolled right through his head, leaving a sense of overwhelming pressure behind it. The size and power of it shocked him. An instant later, all over the promenade, people staggered, some dropping to their knees, a few crumpling to the ground completely. 

'Stop that at once!' Odo told Ian sternly. The baby gave a startled hiccup and the pressure abated.

'Give him here,' Lwaxana said hastily. She turned from Grana, who was being helped up by Mr Homn, bundled Ian into her arms and patted his back. The weird mental pressure went away altogether, leaving people looking around them in bewilderment. 'I'm so sorry about that. Is everyone all right?'

'That remains to be seen,' Odo said grimly.

* * *

An hour later, the scale of Ian's 'whoopsie' was becoming clear. Its effects had been confined, fortunately, to the Promenade, so personnel engaged in work affecting the safe functioning of the station were untouched, but throughout the shopping and dining area people had experienced effects ranging from a momentary giddiness to total unconsciousness. Several had been injured or caused injury to others by falling or dropping objects they were holding, and Dr Bashir and his infirmary team were kept busy patching them up. A few individuals had gone into a sort of psychic shock, a deep unconsciousness similar to coma, from which they had to be gently coaxed by Ambassador Troi's skilled mind. On waking, they reported bizarre dreams which had seemed absolutely real to them; they had wandered through a city built on a cloud, a subterranean maze, an endless festival. Apart from some disorientation, they seemed to have suffered no real ill effects. One or two had enjoyed their dreams so much they were disappointed to be woken.

'There's just one I'm quite worried about, Madam Ambassador,' Bashir said, ushering Lwaxana over to yet another bedside. She was feeling quite tired now and would have loved to lie down herself, perhaps nurse Ian for a while because goodness knew her breasts felt like boulders, but if there was just one more she supposed she could take care of him or her. Besides, 'quite worried' was an understatement. The doctor was really fretting, more than he ordinarily would over an at-risk patient. That accounted for his relative lack of reaction to a really excellent outfit on her part, she supposed. Julian Bashir was such a puppyish mass of hormones, it was rather sweet to see how he concentrated when he was working.

This patient was a Cardassian man in early middle age - the one who ran that excellent clothing shop on the Promenade, she thought, placing him. She'd been planning to have him make alterations to a few of her favourite dresses, now that she was losing some of her baby weight. He lay flat on his back, breathing shallowly. His colour was poor and he looked somewhat waxy. The chief sign of life was that his eyelids occasionally flickered, as if in REM sleep. Dr Bashir picked up his hand, feeling the pulse at his wrist the old-fashioned way, full of affectionate concern.

'Garak hasn't come round,' Dr Bashir explained. 'He seems to be in a worse state than any of the other coma patients. His vitals are weak, while theirs were close to normal, and he has highly elevated levels of stress hormones in his bloodstream. I can't find any physical reason for it. Can you take a look?'

'I can try,' Lwaxana said, 'though you should be aware that Cardassians are notoriously difficult to work with psychically. Fortunately, I'm notoriously good at what I do.' She took a deep breath and cleared her head of distractions (tired feet sore breasts itch under her wig), reaching out towards the patient's mind.

At first she wasn't sure she would get in. Garak (Garak something, or something Garak? She didn't recall) wasn't psychic, but his mind was extraordinarily guarded. She had to make several approaches before she snuck in sidelong and got a good look at what was happening in there.

* * *

 _ He met his contact in the Replimat and they made polite conversation before repairing to his quarters, where the real purpose of the meeting was explicitly stated. _

_'Just one termination, and I can return to Cardassia?' He could hardly believe it. There had to be some catch._

 _'Just one, and you will be fully reinstated. Here is your target.' A picture was handed over. Big hazel eyes and a sweet foolish smile. He hesitated, and his contact saw it._

 _'I have it from Tain himself,' she said, 'that if you do this, he will not only reinstate you, but publicly acknowledge you as his natural son.'_

 _'I look forward to it,' he said firmly._

 _It was easy. He asked Julian to meet him in an out-of-the-way place, saying he had something important to tell him, making it sound mysterious and exciting. He saw him waiting there, back to him, eager and unsuspecting. Julian heard his footfall and turned, a smile spreading across his face, greeting him. He made sure of his grip, stepped forward, and with the momentum of that step, put the knife in, under the ribs and up, twisting the long blade, tearing through the lungs and heart. Julian's face registered shock, then pain. He fell into his arms, and he watched his face. He waited for the betrayal, the hatred, but as red foam spilled from his mouth, the boy died merely confused, terribly confused._

 _It wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth it. Julian was dead, dead forever, and he was filled with the horror of it. How could he ever have thought he could live with this? All food tasted like blood. The sun was black. He was welcomed home as a hero, embraced and forgiven and accepted, and he wanted only to die._

 _ He met his contact in the Replimat and they made polite conversation before repairing to his quarters, where the real purpose of the meeting was explicitly stated. _

* * *

Lwaxana opened her eyes and gasped for air.

She was shivering violently, and Dr Bashir wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and guided her to sit down.

'You're going to be all right,' he assured her. 'I can give you a gentle sedative.'

'No - no need,' she said, pulling herself together. 'Just a strong drink, please.'

'How about strong coffee?' he offered, and she nodded. 'Nurse, would you?'

'He's caught in a loop,' Lwaxana said as the nurse hurried off. 'Experiencing the same sequence of events again and again, and as far as he's concerned, they are real. It's terrible for him. You two...'

'Are friends,' Julian supplied, and to her surprise he seemed to mean that and only that. 'You've probably noticed how anxious I am for him. I'm afraid I can't help it; I've grown really fond of him.'

'Well, he's fond of _you_ , and that's why he's in such difficulty,' Lwaxana said, wondering how someone this intelligent could be this oblivious to the enormous love she'd observed in Garak's mind. 'In this looping delusion, he's been asked to assassinate you. Some political thing, for Cardassia. He'll get everything he's always wanted if he does it. So he does, and it just devastates him. He can't bear the loss of you, and he can't stand himself. He wants to die - wants it so much that he's actually going into a physical decline. If we can't snap him out of it, I don't think he has long to live.'

'Really?' Julian said, honestly startled.

'Really. As I said, he's - fond of you.' The nurse came back with her coffee, and she wrapped her hands around the hot mug gratefully.

'Well, I'd like to think so. We do have lunch together every week. Sometimes twice a week.'

'I mean, really, really fond of you.'

He blinked at her, none the wiser, and Lwaxana felt more tired than ever. People could be so _stupid_ with their feelings, and she was as frustrated with Garak as she was with Dr Bashir. What did he think he was doing, suppressing all that love and desire? Perfectly lovely feelings, that he could have shared and enjoyed with this very charming and _mouldable_ young man, and instead he had squashed them down until they sprang back up and smashed him in the face. It was such a _good_ love, too, and that was why he didn't understand it; he didn't think he was capable of something like that. It would never happen on Betazed.

'Can you bring him out of it?' Julian asked her. 'Like the others?'

'I'm afraid not,' she said. 'Not on my own. This loop is perpetuating itself, the grief and guilt driving it round and round. The only thing that can break it is knowing that you're all right, that he hasn't really harmed you. The only way he can know that is if he hears it from you.'

'Then I'll tell him, of course,' Julian said, springing up and going to the bedside. He held Garak's hand between both his own and spoke clearly by his ear. 'Can you hear me, Garak? Please, wake up. I'm perfectly all right. It's Julian Bashir. I'm fine.'

'He won't hear you that way,' Lwaxana said, and sipped her coffee. It was beginning to help; the nurse, on her own initiative, had ordered it very sweet. 'He's retreated to a very deep level of his unconscious mind. We're going to have to set up a sort of... telepathic teleconference, I suppose, so you can get in there with me.'

'All right,' Julian said. He was thinking at a furious speed; Lwaxana couldn't even distinguish the dozen or so different ideas whizzing through his head at any given moment. Two very strange minds in one day; they deserved each other. 'I'm afraid I've no telepathic ability at all, but I have something that may help us - with a multitronic engrammatic interpreter, I should be able to enter his mindscape, so to speak.'

'Good idea,' Lwaxana said, as if she knew exactly what a multisonic grammatical interprethingy was. 'I recommend having a square meal first. This is going to take a lot out of both of us.'

  
_To be continued_   



	2. Chapter 2

Entering Garak's mind was an extremely odd sensation. Julian had a moment's detached, out-of-body-experience-ish-ness, seeing as if from above the bed where Garak lay and the gurneys pulled up on either side of it, himself and Ambassador Troi lying on them. He had time to think that his legs were always longer than he thought of them being, before he fell forward into the picture. Then he was surrounded by grey clouds, and then standing, as if he had never been falling at all, in a rather pretty garden. Ambassador Troi was standing nearby, although he didn't think he should be looking directly at her.

'Er, what happened to your clothes, Madam Ambassador?' he asked.

'Clothes? Well, why bother with clothes when I'm just a figment of my own imagination?' she asked. She was standing naked in a sort of drifting cloud of scraps of coloured silk, which always managed to drift just so that modesty wasn't compromised, and yet he had never seen anyone look quite so _undressed._ If this was Ambassador Troi's self-image he was seeing, she also considered herself quite a lot younger than she was, and if it was accurate, Lwaxana Troi in her prime must have been quite something. 'Why have you imagined yourself in your uniform? You could have worn anything.'

'I suppose I assumed I'd be in my uniform because it's what I really have on. Look, don't let's get distracted - and please, if you could imagine you're wearing something a little bit more substantial, it would be a good deal less distracting for me.'

'Oh, all right,' she said, giving him a wink that made the back of his neck sweat. The cloud of silk closed in around her and became a shiny red dress which somehow managed to suggest rubies, roses and vintage Ferraris all at the same time.

'That's still very, um...'

'The word you're looking for is "va-va-voom," and I'm not changing again. Now come on, let's see if we can find your Garak.' Lwaxana put her hands on her hips and looked around the garden.

'He's not _my_ Garak,' Julian mumbled, but he looked around as well. Of course he had never been there, but he rather thought the flora around them looked Romulan. It was quite a lovely garden, very harmoniously laid out and clearly maintained with great care. Some of the combinations of colours definitely put him in mind of Garak's taste. They were standing on a path of crushed shells; he would have felt guilty about standing on the grass, which was so lush and neatly trimmed it looked like velvet.

When he listened carefully, Julian could hear the sounds of a spade striking soil, and someone grunting slightly, pushing and lifting it.

'This way, I think,' he said quietly, pointing along the path. They walked in that direction, and he was struck by the realism of the whole thing. The shells on the path were actually crunching and popping under his boots and Lwaxana's glossy red pumps. The path led them through a stand of angular copper-coloured trees, then curved around towards an ornamental pond. On the sloping ground by the pond a gardener was digging a small hole to receive the young tree that lay nearby, its roots wrapped in damp sacking. As he turned to tip out a spadeful of earth, his face came into view, and was familiar.

'Garak,' Julian called out, pleased that they had found him so quickly. Lwaxana must have overestimated the depth to which Garak had retreated. He started down the slope towards him, smiling with relief. Garak didn't reply yet, only stood there staring at him. 'It's me! Julian,' he said, drawing nearer and holding out his hands.

Garak said nothing. He reached for a small tilling fork that was tucked through his belt, drew it out, and before Julian could make sense of the action, stuck it deeply into his chest. He felt it punch into him, through skin and muscle, breaking his sternum, knocking the wind out of him, and everything went dark.

He regained consciousness lying on the grass, his head pillowed on Lwaxana's slippery satin lap. There was no sign of Garak, and no pain in his chest. Putting his hand to it, he found no sign of a wound, either - his uniform wasn't even torn.

'Next time we see him,' Lwaxana said, stroking his hair back from his forehead in a motherly fashion, 'don't just dash up to him like that.'

'Why did he do that?' Julian asked plaintively. 'I came in here to help him. I thought we were friends.'

'Remember, he's stuck in a recurring delusion of killing you,' Lwaxana said. 'That does colour things a bit. He stabbed you and ran off thataway. If it helps, he looked pretty upset about it.'

'But how am I to tell him that I'm all right if I can't get near him without being impaled on some sort of garden implement?' Julian sat up and checked again that he didn't actually have a gaping chest wound.

'Shouting from a distance, perhaps?'

'I hope he hasn't got a phaser next time we catch him up,' Julian muttered, getting up and dusting himself off. Lwaxana held out her hand with a patient 'Ahem' and he helped her to her feet. 'What actually happened to the fork he stabbed me with?' he asked her.

'Oh, I just decided it wasn't there and you were fine,' she said, waving her hand airily. 'You're lucky I'm such a strong-minded woman. Anyway, I don't think we'll find him here any more. Let's keep walking and see what we can find.' She led the way back up to the path, tottering a little on the grass in her spike heels.

'I didn't like that much,' Julian said, rubbing his chest. 'I mean, I've been fake-killed in holodeck games, of course, but it never felt quite like that.'

'Heavy emotional charge,' Lwaxana said, nodding. 'You two are... very important to each other.' She had decided that they could damn well work it out for themselves; she wasn't about to intervene unless they were too idiotically obtuse or stubborn to do so.

'I suppose so,' Julian said thoughtfully. She could feel his mind buzzing away, fast and strange, not what she expected from a human at all. In fact, at times it was closer to the odd impressions she got from little Deanna's rather sweet colleague Mr Data. And there was another one who wouldn't see what was right under his nose, that he _did_ have feelings, just his own unique  kind. Even Deanna didn't seem to get that - not that Lwaxana would dream of interfering in her daughter's professional responsibilities.

Lwaxana cast about for some indication of where Garak's concentration lay. The gardener had really only been a memory, briefly channelling the murder delusion. After walking for a few minutes, the path stopped against a stone wall, built of massive blocks of obsidian.

'I suppose that's appropriate,' said Julian, craning his neck and trying to see the top. 'Any sign of a door?'

'I'm sure I can make one,' Lwaxana said. 'Or there may already be one that we simply haven't noticed yet.' She stared at the wall intently, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. 'Come on now, wall. Dr Bashir and I are on an urgent errand. I am simply _not_ dressed to climb you.'

'Please?' Julian said hopefully. He reached out and patted the wall gently. To his surprise, a section of it rumbled aside - not far enough for either of them to pass through, but it was an opening. 'Please,' he said again, 'let us through. Please?' With a lot of gentle coaxing and patting, he managed to produce a quite acceptable gap, which he very much hoped was not going to crunch shut on them when they tried to go through it. 'Normally, Madam Ambassador, I'd say "after you," but I think I'd better make sure it's safe first.'

They made it through the aperture without either of them meeting a messy death, although the wall made a spirited attempt to grind closed on the trailing hem of Lwaxana's dress. They found themselves standing in a large, dim hall, lit only by a few small windows near the roof.

'Well done,' she said, taking Julian's arm and patting his shoulder with her other hand. 'Are you sure you're not at all psychic? There was definitely something happening there - it wasn't one-way.'

'Pretty sure. I took the usual tests in school and at Starfleet Medical.'

'Sometimes they miss something,' Lwaxana said, shrugging. 'It'll never be an exact science. Then again, it may just be an effect of your bond with your... friend, or something that your engrammatronic doodad facilitates.'

'It's a multitronic engrammatic interpreter.'

'You boys and your toys,' she said, smiling indulgently. 'Now, I think I see a door down there in the murk. Shall we go?'

For some time they wandered from room to room of what seemed to be a very large and cheerless house. Everything seemed to be built to a slightly larger scale than normal.

'Do you know what I think?' Julian whispered. Something about the place enjoined silence, or at least a hush. 'I think this place is built of childhood memories. Look how big everything is, and how all the most interesting things are up on shelves out of reach.'

'I think you're right,' Lwaxana said (he was, and she had been perfectly aware of it for some time, but it would be unkind to squelch his pride in working it out on his own). 'You know him better than I do; see anything meaningful?'

'I'm not sure. I have been recognising quite a few of the books around here - they're ones he's lent or given to me. And do you see that jar on the table over there, the one that looks like a cross between a Dalek and a unicorn? He gave that to me for my last birthday. I had no idea it was - well, I don't know if it's an heirloom, but something of his own that he'd had for a long time, not just something he'd bought for me.' He lifted the lid of the little jar, picking it up by the metal point on top, and looked in. 'That's different. It's full of some sort of oil.'

'That's an engagement jar,' Lwaxana said. 'The oil's used for anointing the couple's heads and hands during the marriage ceremony.' Julian looked at her curiously. 'What can I say, I just love weddings. Jars like that get passed down in families. It's a nice custom.'

'So it probably was an heirloom,' Julian said, looking troubled. 'I wish he'd said. I feel funny about accepting something so valuable.'

'That's probably why he didn't say anything,' Lwaxana observed. She gave Julian a shrewd look.

'I mean, this might be hundreds of years old, a precious antique,' Julian fretted. 'I've been keeping _peppermints_ in it.' How  was he doing it, Lwaxana wondered? He was dancing around the implications of being given an engagement jar like a champion. Admittedly, if it was given without any oil in it, and without the obligatory speech, it was ambiguous, but it was still pretty blatantly a gift of enormous sentimental value. Julian replaced it on its table with exaggerated care.

'Of course, there are always challenges to cross-cultural relationships, of whatever kind,' Lwaxana said as they walked on. 'Things that seem obvious and normal to one person can seem outré to the other. Take me and Ian, for example - Ian my first husband, not Ian my baby. I adored him, and he adored me - but you see, while I always knew that he adored me, as clearly as I knew that his eyes were brown, he just didn't have that vital sixth sense to let him _know_ how I felt. That's the great limitation of humans, and so many other species. Ian would get dreadfully insecure from time to time, because I hadn't _said_ "I love you" for a while. So often you have to  explain things that you thought the other person would just know. Of course, you get to have some really interesting conversations that way.'

'Yes, Garak and I always do,' Julian said thoughtfully. He was quite deep in thought, and didn't say much else for the next few minutes, until they found their way into a room where, abruptly, a door opened and an image of Garak walked out, dressed in Cardassian military uniform. Lwaxana felt Julian's arm tense up, the sudden upspring of hope and anxiety and warmth in his feelings.

'You're not welcome here,' the image of Garak said, its voice terse and clipped. 'Leave now and we can avoid any unpleasantness.'

'Garak,' Julian said gently. 'Please listen to me. I'm your friend, and I've come to help you.'

'What nonsense. I've never seen you in my life. Leave this house - I have no desire for an interplanetary incident, but I'd be well within my rights.' Garak drew a phaser from his belt and held it up, not yet aiming at them but able to do so with just a flicker of movement.

'We can't do that,' Julian said.

'Listen, young man -'

'No, you listen to _me ,_' Lwaxana said, dropping Julian's arm and stepping forward. She objected to being ignored in any encounter, and the well-known words rolled off her tongue the way they had done in response to any challenge for the better part of her life. 'I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and I will _not_ be spoken to this way! This "young man" has undertaken a particularly difficult and dangerous procedure out of his regard for you and the _least_ you can do is hear what he has to say!'

Garak looked nonplussed. 'Madame, I think you'll find that your chalice and rings mean very little here.' Julian stepped towards him, and he raised the phaser reflexively. 'No further, doctor.'

'Ah! How did you know that I'm a doctor, if you don't know me?' Julian took another step forward, closing the gap between them a little.

'Your uniform,' Garak said. 'The blue. Everyone knows Starfleet medical personnel wear blue.'

'I could be any sort of science officer. But you knew I was a doctor. You call me doctor all the time; you'd rather that than use my name.' Another step, holding out his open, empty hands. 'We're friends. You're having trouble remembering because you were exposed to an uncontrolled telepathic burst, and it's affected your mind.'

'Stop it,' Garak said, taking half a step back. 'I have no friends. I can't afford them.'

'It's all right, I promise,' Julian said, taking a full step forward. He was just one more step from being in arm's reach of the other man. 'You can trust me. I can help you remember and we can sort all this out.'

'You must be mad,' Garak said, looking both disgusted and fascinated.

'I'm not, and nor are you,' Julian said, taking that last step. He reached out and placed his hand over the phaser. Garak gave him a last incredulous look and shot him.

The beam hit Julian, and fierce light blazed through him, but he stood there steadily, staring at Garak. 'No,' he said. 'This isn't real; it can't hurt me.' Lwaxana was quite impressed.

'Get away from me! Leave me alone!'

'I can't. I need to look after you.'

'You'll never get me!' Garak blurted out, snatching his hand away from Julian's and turning the phaser beam on himself. He vanished with a flash, leaving only a smell of burning.

Julian stood there, slowly lowering his hand, his shoulders sagging in dismay. 'Why won't he listen?' he asked. 'We can't be as close as I've thought.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' Lwaxana said. That flash had given her the start of a headache and put paid to her patience. 'Of course you're close. He loves you.'

'I wouldn't go that far,' Julian said with a sheepish laugh.

'I would! He loves you! Loves you, wants you and needs you, the full three out of three. Why do you think it's affecting him so horribly that he thinks he's killed you? You're the love of his life! He'd thought he was never going to feel like that about anyone, that it wasn't in him, that becoming the man his father taught him to be had destroyed that part of his heart, and now he loves you so deeply and dearly that he feels split down the middle, between the person he believes he is and the person you make him want to be. Close your mouth. And you love him too!'

'I - what - no! Look, Madam Ambassador, I care very much for my friends but I've never been attracted to men.'

'Oh, yes, that's why the first time you met him and he put his hands on your shoulders you got the hot-and-cold shivers all over your body. That's why every time you know you're going to meet him for lunch you feel idiotically happy all morning. That's why you risked your neck going to see the retired head of the Obsidian Order to try and save his life!'

'That's not fair!' Julian said, flushing crimson.

'You're the one thinking about it! I'm just the one pointing out the screamingly obvious, because you seem determined not to face it.'

'I like _women!_ I've been with heaps of them. I quite fancy _you ,_ although you're old enough to be my grandmother.'

'Oh! That was rude.'

'It's rude to look inside people's heads without their permission!'

'I'm not looking inside, you ridiculous boy, you're broadcasting it. Besides, we don't have Garak's permission to be in his head.'

'That's different - we're trying to help him!'

'Well, I'm trying to help _you.'_

'You're interfering, and - and that's a tarty dress.' Julian stopped, looking ashamed of himself. 'I'm sorry. That _was_ rude.'

'Yes, it was, but I'm prepared to forgive you on the grounds that I urgently want to get this thing wrapped up. You have no idea how sore my boobs are. I shouldn't even be feeling them when I'm out of my body like this.' Lwaxana folded her arms under her bust as if supporting her idea of her breasts would alleviate the real ones' discomfort.

'Um. Sorry about that.'

'Let's just try to find your Garak so I can get back to my Ian, shall we? I'm not really angry with you, dear - I wouldn't have lost my temper if I weren't so uncomfrotable.' Lwaxana pointed to the door the image of Garak had come from. 'I would guess he was guarding something in there.'

It was just an ordinary-looking bedroom, somewhat dusty. There weren't even any personal items around it. They were high up under the roof of the house now, and the ceiling was low and sloping. Julian looked around, at a loss. From the half-sized closet built into the angle of the wall and ceiling came a very small scraping sound, as of a shoe on the floor. He went over and tried the handle, finding the door locked.

'Here,' Lwaxana said. She picked up a key from the table next to the door and tossed it to Julian. 'Try that.'

It worked, after a moment's resistance, and the door grated open once he worked out how to turn the handle, push it in and up and only then pull out. It was extremely dark inside the closet, and he had to stoop to look inside. Huddled in the furthest corner was a small Cardassian child, and as Julian looked in he attempted to compact himself into a smaller space, his shoes scraping on the floor as he pushed with his feet. The light caught his eyes and Julian saw they were blue and familiar.

'Garak,' he whispered. 'I mean... Elim. Elim? It's all right. You can come out.'

'No, I can't,' the child said. 'I'm bad.'

'You're not. Truly, you're not.' He held out his hand, hoping it wasn't going to get bitten off - but perhaps third time would be the charm. Crouching low, he edged into the small, dark, stuffy space, reaching for the child's hands, which were clasping his knees up against his chest. He held them in both his, stroking the backs with his thumbs, trying to soothe. 'I have never thought you were bad.'

'You don't know what I did.'

'Tell me.'

'I killed you.' It was just a thread of a whisper, and the child began to cry.

'But you didn't. Here I am. That was only a terrible dream. I'm perfectly all right.' Julian reached in and gathered the child into his arms, shuffling back out of the airless little closet. 'I'm fine, and I came to find you and tell you. Don't cry. Don't cry.' He sat on the floor with the child in his lap, sobbing into his shoulder, feeling faintly ridiculous, but knowing that what was needed now was to hold on. He folded his arms around the shuddering little back and rested his cheek on the top of the dusty little head. 'Can you feel my heart? It's beating away with no problems. I'm fine.' He felt a small, shaking hand press to his chest, feeling the pulse there, and felt a deep twinge of tenderness.

'It's all right,' he whispered. 'Everything's all right. You're getting heavy, though, so - oh.' He had his arms around the adult Garak. It was like one of those odd transitions that happen in dreams. 'Is this you?' he asked quietly. 'I mean, the real you? Not an image or a memory?'

'I'm afraid so, doctor,' Garak said. 'My apologies for sitting in your lap.'

'It's all right. I did put you there.'

'I feel very foolish.' Garak wouldn't look him in the eye, and Julian had to touch his chin to turn his head and insist on it. There was nothing he wanted to say, for once; he just wanted to look into his eyes and assure himself that this was his Garak... and to admit to himself that yes, he was 'his' Garak, that Lwaxana was right about that. There was a thought to stun you into silence, but it was a warm rosy silence that seemed to wrap around the two of them and hold them together. Garak's hand was still over his heart.

'Oh,' Garak said quietly. 'I see.'

'Well, yet again, I prove to myself that I am _clearly_ the avatar of some sort of goddess of love!' Lwaxana said happily. 'Now let's all get out of here before I start leaking milk.'

* * *

After a few hours' observation, Garak was given the all clear to leave the infirmary. He did his best to slip away without having to talk to Julian, but he caught him up in the corridor outside.

'I think I'd better just make sure you get home safely,' Julian said.

'Don't you have other patients?'

'My shift just ended. I'm at liberty.'

'As you wish.' Garak walked on.

'Have you ever seen an old film called _The Princess Bride?'_ Julian asked, beaming and trotting to catch up.

'I've never seen any films from Earth. Colour cinematography gives me a headache.'

'I really should show you some of my favourites.' Julian followed him happily, and seeing that the corridor leading to Garak's quarters in the habitat ring was empty, attempted to hold his hand.

'What are you doing?' Garak snatched his hand away.

'If it's not obvious, I can explain... you see, this is a gesture of affection and intimacy -'

'I know that. Don't do it.' He hurried off to his quarters, though not quickly enough to prevent Julian nipping through before the door closed automatically.

'Wait a moment. Look, I can understand if you feel shy about it in public, but there was nobody around.'

'Please don't make a fool of yourself, doctor.'

'I'm not. I love you, and I know you love me. The only foolish thing would be ignoring it now that we both know.'

'Julian! I was willing to kill you!'

'Well, you actually didn't, and given how horrible you felt about it I don't think there's much risk that you'll ever do it in reality.'

'How can someone so intelligent be so stupid? Risk! Do you even realise what you'd be risking?'

'Personally, I'd rather take my chances with you than know I never tried. And that's my risk to take - you've no right to decide for me.' He took Garak's hand again, and this time it wasn't pulled away. 'All you have to decide is whether you want to try too.'

Garak sighed. 'It's extremely uncomfortable to be _known_ in the way that you now know me.'

'There's still an awful lot I don't know.' Julian stepped closer, hoping he was able to put at least a tenth of how he felt into his gaze. 'And I want to know, when you're ready to tell me.'

'Why do you keep just _accepting_ me? It's really unnerving.'

'Something to do with love, I think.'

'It's not what I'm used to.' There was a trace of wistfulness in Garak's voice; he was visibly giving in.

'Can I kiss you?'

'You may as well.'

And he did.


End file.
